
T. AIELLO
since the bases of every description are direct acquaintances,
which lend access to knowledge of the world, and since (in this
example) people can have direct acquaintance with the self,
then both Bismarck and his self-acquaintance are justly as-
sumed. After all, the theory of descriptions was intended as a
method of giving individuals access to knowledge of the world
not based on direct experience. But Russell’s response would
be insufficient, as any direct acquaintance that acts as an ele-
ment of the direct description “Bismarck”—such as, to use one
of Russell’s examples, “Bismarck was the first Chancellor of
the German Empire”—finds the proper name embedded in the
proposition. (Russell, 1911). We are left farther and farther
from the knowledge of the intended target with each new pro-
position attempting to posit that knowledge. No history book,
for example, could possibly render a presentation of the first
Chancellor of the German Empire without including a proper
name. “We can only be assured,” he argues, “of the truth of our
judgment in virtue of something with which we are acquaint-
ed—usually a testimony heard or read.” (Russell, 1911). Even
if it is taken for granted that the history book’s Bismarck is
equivalent to the dinner conversation’s Bismarck (which per-
haps is allowing too much, anyway), it remains a proper name,
a stand in for another conglomeration of direct acquaintances,
all of which will hinge on the inclusion of the referent’s proper
name.
Solipsism and Knowledge
For Russell, the theory of descriptions circumvented possible
charges of solipsism in acquaintance theory by granting access
to knowledge of the outside world. As Cora Diamond para-
phrases Russell’s arguments in “Knowledge by Acquaintance
and Knowledge by Description” and other works of the early
1910s, “the limits of the world, about which I can have knowl-
edge, and the objects in which I can denote (whether directly or
in some cases only indirectly ), lie outside the li mits of the realm
of my own experience.” (Diamond, 2000). But Russell ties
everything that can be known to a series of acquaintances,
wholly within “the realm of my own experience.” Prior to his
Bismarck illustration, but in the same paper, Russell notes that
physical objects and other people’s minds are not “among the
objects with which we are acquainted.” (Russell, 1911). If our
knowledge is dependent on acquaintance with sense data (only
cognized at the point in which it comes into contact with our
senses, within the realm of personal experience), and that sense
data is in aid of grasping truths (such as Bismarck’s self aware-
ness) that we can never know, how valid is the knowledge that
lies between these two poles? It seems that Russell is masking
solipsism, rather than arguing against it. If that knowledge is
“indirect,” can it be considered whole? Or, perhaps, can it be
considered equivalent to direct knowledge that we cannot have?
Russell does not answer these questions. Nor does he give a
firm account of how these two forms of knowledge are cogni-
tively related. The primacy of acquaintance makes even direct
descriptions suspect, because in evaluating the logical descrip-
tion of, say, “Bismarck,” any evaluator must have direct ac-
quaintances for evidence of B (and those acquaintances will be
unique to the evaluator, anyway). “We know that there is an
object B called Bismarck,” writes Russell, “and that B was an
astute diplomatist. We can thus describe the proposition we
should like to affirm, namely, ‘B was an astute diplomatist,’
where B is the object which was Bismarck.” (Russell, 1911).
Any evaluator of that description will again come to B through
a unique set of acquaintances.
That uniqueness—that personalness that characterizes indi-
vidual acquaintance—does not, for Russell, preclude agreed
upon knowledge. “Let us assume that we think of [Bismarck] as
‘the first Chancellor of the German Empire.’ Here all the words
are abstract except ‘German.’ The word ‘German’ will again
have different meanings for different people. To some it will
recall travels in Germany, to some the look of Germany on the
map, and so on. But if we are to obtain a description which we
know to be applicable, we shall be compelled, at some point, to
bring in a reference to a particular with which we are acquaint-
ed.” (Russell, 1911). Clearly, however, Germany’s shape—its
border—is a valid particular, and when one participant in
communication understands “German” as, “a human within the
designated border of Germany,” and another assumes, “de-
scendant of the various former Saxon kingdoms,” then that
communication is not direct. We are constantly talking past
each other. But, for Russell, the fact of Bismarck’s own self-
acquaintance, his existence, makes indirect knowledge—these
close approximations to specific agreement—valid. Even if this
state of affairs was acceptable, it does not coincide with Rus-
sell’s theory of descriptions, the goal of which was clarity and
specificity. Furthermore, any statement about Bismarck indi-
rectly references Bismarck’s personal knowledge, what Dia-
mond calls his “private object.” “The quantified proposition,”
as Diamond notes, “follows from Bismarck’s private proposi-
tion.” (Diamond, 2000). This relation between a distanced de-
scription (the “quantified proposition”) and Bismarck’s per-
sonal knowledge demonstrates, for Russell, the benefit in the
attempt. But even the interpretation of the logic of direct de-
scription rests on personal judgments about what sort of
knowledge we have about an object we can never truly know
(to use the aforementioned example, B), so the relation between
the distanced and the personal is constantly changing.
At first glance, this emphasis on the personal can sound like
psychologism, and some psycho-historical compromise be-
tween acquaintance theory and, say, traditional history or soci-
ology, which claim to know individuals better than they know
themselves, would seem appropriate. But Russell was just as
disdainful of psychologism in logical formulation as was his
predecessor Gottlob Frege. Frege not only sought to corral
psychologism, but, like Russell, tried to define away subjectiv-
ity in knowledge. His 1892 “On Sinn and Bedeutung” describes
a “common store of thoughts,” which humans share “from one
generation to another.”4 (Frege, 1892). He would, twenty-six
years later, develop his notion of thought further—its objectiv-
ity and residence in “a third realm”—explaining that it is inde-
pendent of subjectivity, “timelessly true, true independently of
whether anyone takes it to be true.” (Frege, 1918). Thoughts,
for Frege, are the mental entities the whole has acknowledged
as true, independent of what individuals think about them.
What individuals think about them—ideas—act as agents of
access from the mind to the outside thought. Thus, thought is
objective, and ideas only serve as mediating devices to thought,
never from it. Sense, too, is objective, certainly a more difficult
argument to validate considering that it initially seems to stem
4Sinn translates as “sense.” Bedeutung generally translates as “reference,”
because “r eference ” is t he clos est fun ctional match, bu t bedeutung carries a
linguistic weight unequalled by “reference,” and so here is retained in the
original German. It is also retained in editor Michael Beany’s The Frege
eade
, whose translation was used in this study.
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